Back in 2001 I was living in a shared house. One evening I came home to find Pete and (Fat) Martin in the lounge laughing uncontrollably. When I asked what was so funny they were unable to speak and instead passed me a letter addressed to the third house-mate Dan.
The previous day Dan had resigned from his job as a security guard after only 36 hours. Embarrassed at the real reason for his departure (laziness / rich parents) he got his sister to ring up on his behalf and say that he’d been involved in a car crash and had, had one of his arms amputated.
The letter was from the security firm in response to his resignation. Written with the comedy precision of a literary predator and peppered with italics it said that they were, “distraught when we phoned your parents and discovered they were unaware of your tragic accident. Please get someone to help you dial them as soon as is humanly possible and swathe their angst. As your uniform was found in the locker-room we can only presume that you intended to resign anyway before this most horrific happenstance.”
Yesterday I was delighted to see that a large reading group had replied to my e-mail enquiry. I eagerly opened their post hoping for interest, but instead encountered a wall of abuse. Reading through a second time I realised that it was a satire. Scanning down to my original note I found that, rather than signing off with the obligatory ‘Regards’ I had instead slipped and typed ‘Retards.’
The groups’ spokesperson took great delight in stating that, ‘we don’t generally read the works of abusive illiterates,’ before declining and wishing me well in my pursuits.